Consulting Ginger
by SherlockWho22
Summary: The Doctor has left Amy again. Broken and alone, she finds herself staying in 221C Baker Street, an odd man overhead and a sadness she doesn't know how to deal with underfoot. *Rating is precautionary*
1. Chapter 1

Amy blindly stumbled down the sidewalk, her vision marred by tears. She swiped at her eyes, but it was no use.

The Doctor had left her. Again.

She crumpled in front of a door marked 221B and sobbed breathlessly into her palms. This scene was so familiar. Except this time, she wasn't even sure he was coming back.

He'd dropped her off in a hurry. He hadn't said much about the problem, but he did tell her that it was extremely dangerous and he didn't want her hurt. She'd tried to object, but he'd taken on that tone of voice. The serious one she is convinced he uses only on her.

"Ill try to- I'll-" he'd stopped and closed his eyes. "I may not be back this time. If that is the case, don't wait for me. Get on with your life, Amelia."

What was that supposed to mean? He was her life. He was her best friend and he was going to leave her for the third time. Except this time, there was only a smidgen of hope for his return, because whatever he was facing had him scared half to death. She hoped that was only a figure of speech, in this instance.

She licked his her lips and swiped at her eyes as the flat door swung open and a tall, thin man came forth through the doorway. Tendrils of black curls hung around his head, and his piercing blue eyes wore a heavily scrutinising expression.

Amy stumbled to her feet, swiping at her eyes. "I-I'm sorry."

He sniffed, clearly uncomfortable by the display of emotion. Still, she pathetically began sobbing again. He reminded her of the Doctor, and she wasn't even sure why.

Just when his mouth opened and Amy was sure the man would shoo her away, an older woman came forth through the doorway, a concerned look splashed across her wrinkling face. "Are you alright, deary?"

She was a complete stranger, yet Amy already fell like she could be the mother she never had. She was about to say she was, but instead she dumbly shook her head and sobbed again.

The old woman collected Amy in her arms and brought her inside, up a flight of stairs. She sat her down on a couch and then left to make some tea, as she'd announced.

The man followed Amy to the couch, sitting across from her as she pulled her arms to her chest. His eyes were narrowed, and occasionally his head would twitch to the side slightly.

She dropped her arms. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?" She wiped her eyes and nose on the sleeve of her red jumper.

"You're apparel indicates that you've been out of town recently. I say out of town. More likely out of country." His head canted to the side "Accent obviously indicates that you are not from England, although you moved here when you were just a child. You never knew your parents and it bothers you severely. Although the matter at hand is someone clearly left you. A boyfriend, a girlfriend. Although more likely a friend. Your best friend. You've known him since child hood. He left you for some time but returned. He then left again, came back and you went places with him. But what places? It's doubtful that you would be one satisfied by Earthly monuments, judging by what I've already gathered about your personality."

Amy's mouth was practically on the floor. How on Earth did he know so much about her? The older woman chose that moment to come back into the room.

"Here, darling. A nice cuppa. That'll help you feel better." She handed the steaming mug to a gaping Amy, the man in front of her seeming quite self-satisfied.

Amy quickly closed her mouth and nodded to the woman. "Thank you. I really appreciate it." She took a long, slow slip, trying her best not to squirm under the lanky man's scrutiny.

The woman sat down on the sofa beside Amy. "I'm Mrs. Hudson. What's your name, dear?"

She cleared her throat and wrapped her long fingers around the circumference of the mug. "I'm Ame- Amy. Amy Pond."

"Oh, isn't that a lovely name!" Mrs. Hudson smiled brightly at her. "Now, deary, may I ask you what's left you in this state?"

Amy glanced up momentarily at the man in front of her who was still staring. Her eyes darted down to the nearly-clear liquid in her mug. She took another slow sip, before swallowing hard. "My best friend and I were. Sort of. Well traveling. We traveled for a few years together. Seeing- seeing the world." She licked her lips. "But he had to go away. Somewhere dangerous and far away and I don't know if I'll ever see him again." Amy's eyes became distant. She wouldn't cry anymore. She wouldn't.

"Oh, goodness. I'm so sorry deary. I'm sure you'll see them again."

Amy said nothing more on the matter. She needed to be strong. She had lost all hope of his return; she'd become quite a pessimist after his departure when she was a child. But somewhere deep inside of her, she still had faith he would return for her.

"I've got a phone that you can use to contact your relatives, dear." Mrs. Hudson's motherly voice withdrew her from her thoughts.

Amy smiled weakly. "Umm. Thank you." she swallowed the rest of her tea, which was now turning tepid, at best. "But, I, umm-"

"She doesn't have any relatives or friends within the London area," the pale man murmured. She looked up at him, once again baffled at his ability to read her. To say it piqued her interest would be an understatement. She was always curious, even as a child. She would question him later. If there was a later.

Mrs. Hudson frowned. "No family? No friends?"

Amy shook her head slowly. The only family she had ever had was long gone; her friend only God knew where.

The man broke her out of her thoughts. "There's something else. Something I can't quite..." he trailed off, suddenly jumping so he was perched on the edge of the arm chair, eyes narrowed at her. She was feeling weak and sad and lonely and this man was only making it worse.

/The Doctor and him would have got on./ She almost snorted at the thought. Almost.

Mrs Hudson patted Amy's arm. "Well if you'll be staying in London, I've got a flat downstairs for rent. I can let you stay in there, free of charge, until you can get a job. You seem like a nice girl. I'd hate to see you wind up sleeping on a bench." The woman watched Amy sadly.

Amy smiled softly. She cleared her throat before speaking. "Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. I really appreciate it. I'm having a bit of a hard time right now." Her head dipped a bit. /You can only move forwards./ "I'll start searching for a job as soon as possible."

Mrs. Hudson patted her arm again. "Take a few days to rest deary, you look like you've been through the ringer."

The man chose that moment to interrupt with a derisive snort. "You barely know the woman and you are letting her stay free of charge in 221C? She must have bewitched you."

Amy was about to shoot back a retort, for she wasn't in the mood, when Mrs. Hudson huffed. "Sherlock, where are your manners? The poor girls been through hell. As for the flat, it's not being rented out currently and I haven't had any offers. Oh, it's a basement flat deary. May be a bit dusty, too. No ones been down in ages."

"Not since Carl Powers'," the man, apparently named Sherlock, interrupted. He looked distant for a moment, before snapping back to them. "Do you honestly believe she wishes to stay in a dank, old, draftee, mildew-wrought basement? Come, come Mrs. Hudson. I think you are becoming a bit too desperate for female company."

Amy turned and glared at him, before turning back to Mrs, Hudson and smiling as bright as she could muster, despite her cold insides. "I really appreciate it. Thank you. I'll try not to burden you and get a job as soon as possible."

"Yes, you said that already," Sherlock dismissed, sounding a bit peeved. He clearly didn't want her there, and it only made her want to stay more. He was an odd man, but he was fascinating nonetheless. An adventure she craved. She missed the stars. She missed the TARDIS. She missed her bedroom. But most of all, she missed the Doctor.


	2. Chapter 2

In no time at all, Amy Pond was moved properly into 221C Baker Street. The furniture was nice enough, so when she was to find a job she wouldn't have to buy new things, and she had her clothes and blankets and other things from her bedroom on the TARDIS to decorate the flat. However dank and dreary it may have been, she was Amelia Pond and she was going to get on with her life.

After about a week of sleeping, a bit of eating, and many loud, annoying noises from the man overhead, she sat at her kitchen table, absently sipping tea and rifling through the papers. After finding nothing, she gave a great sigh. And then as if on cue, the destruction commenced. Amy had met Sherlock's flat mate and friend, John, not long after her arrival, and had learned that he was soon to be married, and in the process of moving his things out, which had Sherlock in quite a tizzy.

She'd learned to avoid Sherlock at all costs if she wished to keep her dignity, but there was the occasional bump in on the stairwell. She learned quickly that he liked to pick people apart, and was quite an egoistical git when he wasn't being a brilliant one.

Something about him enraptured her, but she did well to be on guard whenever he was around. He took great fun, especially, in picking on her mini skirts.

Amy folded the paper and swallowed down the rest of her now tepid tea, bringing the cup to the sink. She then made her way upstairs, a bit curious as to what was going on, as she had nothing better to do with her time.

She bounded up the steps to Sherlock's flat, peaking her head in the doorway. The man himself stormed around the flat, kicking up various things and tossing others around.

"You alright, there?" she asked, a bit of a playful tone to her voice.

Sherlock rounded on her, glaring as he jumped into his arm chair. "Yes of course I'm alright. Physically, that is. Mentally I am degrading away with absolute and utter boredom. I need a case!" he huffed and fluffed up his curls.

She raised an eyebrow and giggled a bit. "A case? What sort of case?"

He rolled his eyes. "You are all dull and the same and there is no use in explaining anything to you lot."

Amy glared at him and crossed her arms. "I am not dull."

Sherlock waved her away. "Oh don't be offended. Practically everybody is."

"Is that right? So I guess you're not dull then," she asked sceptically, sliding into the room.

"Of course not! I'm me! Ergo, I am not dull." he sighed and reclined in the chair.

She sat in the arm chair across from him. "As if that's reason enough." she rolled her eyes. "You are exactly like the Doctor." She was immediately saddened.

Sherlock looked at her curiously. She only sighed. "The Doctor was your friend whom left you, I presume?"

"You presume correct." she sighed again.

"Stop sighing."

She glanced up at him curiously.

"It only serves in reminding me just how boring breathing is." he pulled his knees to his chest.

She rolled her eyes. "You are so juvenile. No wonder John is moving out."

Sherlock sneered at her, but surprisingly said nothing.

After a moment of silence, Amy shifted, fluffing up the Union Jack pillow on her lap. "So how can I redeem myself?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"How can I not be considered dull, in your book."

"You already have 'redeemed' yourself, as you say."

She glanced at him quizzically.

"You're still here, and we are carrying out a coherent conversation, not containing any cursing or voice raising. You haven't left in a tizzy over apparent 'hurt feelings'." He snorted.

She shrugged a bit. "You're annoying and you have little to no social skills. But you're interesting."

He looked positively baffled for a moment. "I've been called everything from a prick to a git. But never interesting."

She grinned and stood up, placing the pillow on the seat where she previously sat. "Bet you've never been called gorgeous before." She winked and flounced from the room, back down the steps to her flat, leaving a puzzled Sherlock in her wake.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I apologise profusely for the long wait. I've been getting awfully distracted later by life and other menial things. But here we are. I hope to upload another one soon, and feel free to slap me if I don't.**

* * *

Amy woke up one night a few weeks later to intense sawing, on a violin, that is. She grumbled softly, already aware of the culprit, and shrugged on her dressing gown over her small pyjama shorts and tank top.

When she reached the foot of the stairs to his flat, she bounded up angrily and yelled out, "Oi, Sherlock, you bloody great git! I'm trying to sleep. Unlike some of us, I actually have a _real _job that I'll need to be up early for. Now kindly _cut it out_!"

He simply continued on as if he hadn't heard any of what she'd said, and eventually she stormed into his living room, wrenching the bow from him. "Stop. It. Now. Or I _will _break this."

Sherlock simply stared up at her for a few moments, and it was in that moment she realised just how nice his eyes were. That is until they turned completely cold. He snatched his bow back, and glared at her. "This is breaking and entering."

"Not when your front door is open. Even so, I'm positive there was no actual breaking involved." She crossed her arms and rocked back on her heels.

He seemed to then take in her dress, and quickly looked away. She raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Seeing as she most likely wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, she plopped down in the chair that was John's, across from Sherlock's. "So, then. Why are you playing so intensely at three in the morning?"

Sherlock took to shrugging and swiped the bow across the strings of his instrument shrilly, causing Amy to wince and him to smirk. "Bored."

Amy huffed, clearly exasperated with his antics. "Normal people usually sleep at three in the morning. You should try it some time, instead of playing that bloody thing." She motioned elaborately to his instrument.

He simply shrugged. "The body is transport. Rest only slows me down."

Amy eyed him sceptically for a moment, before she shrugged. "So, where's John? He's usually the one to wrangle you properly."

Sherlock's face seemed to turn stony at the mention of his doctor friend. "Mary's."

Amy nodded, noting that the subject seemed to be tender to him. Even if he wasn't always a decent human being to her, she could be one to him. She'd change the subject, after a few more questions, that is. She was still awfully curious over many matters, and The Doctor leaving her didn't help to sate that wild streak in her.

"How do you feel about that, then?" she asked intently, leaning back a bit.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "How do I feel about John getting off with his girlfriend?"

Amy rolled her eyes. "No you big idiot. How do you feel about him getting married?"

Sherlock simply shrugged. "It's none of my business."

"Not like that ever stopped you before. And anyways it is your business. He's your best friend."

Sherlock inclined his head ever so slightly, but said nothing.

Amy sighed and stood up. "Right then, I should be off to bed."

Sherlock looked up to her quickly, almost as if he was alarmed by the sudden movement. "Please stay." His voice sounded far more vulnerable than it'vfs usual gruff baritone, and she stared at him intently. He cleared his throat. "I mean, stay. Your company is less than dull and provides much needed stimulus for my mind."

It was Amy's turn to raise an eyebrow, but she sighed softly. "You only like me for my tea," she said playfully.

Sherlock snorted softly. "Indeed. Speaking of which..."

She rolled her eyes and moved to the kitchen, flicking on the kettle as she went. She was already quite aware of how he took his tea, " Steep for five minutes, no more no less. I shall have to throw you out the window if you do anything less than what I have asked." He was always one for dramatics, it seemed.

After the five minutes were up, she returned to the living room with a mug for him and a mug for herself. He was being surprisingly quiet, so she immediately questioned his health.

"You alright? Usually you'd be sawing away again." She made a face. He simply shrugged and drank from his tea mug, humming softly as she seated herself.

There was a few minutes of silence where they wordlessly communicated with their eyes, and Amy felt like she'd found someone who seemed to know her as well as the Doctor did, even if he was a bit of an intolerable git at times. But she felt like she knew him too, even just from the short time she'd known him.

Suddenly, Sherlock spoke. "I feel sad."

Amy's eyebrow rose. "Hmm?"

Sherlock sighed softly, for he hated to repeat himself. "John will wed this Mary Morstan women, and will leave me behind. I feel sad."

Amy mulled this over for a moment. Well, that was new. She'd never heard him open up to anyone before. Only vaguely to the man in question. "It's normal to feel sad, Sherlock. But he's not going to leave you forever, or move to Timbuktu. you'll still see him, and he'll still be your best friend."

Sherlock took a tentative sip of his tea. "But what if he no longer wants me?" the amount of vulnerability in his voice startled Amy to an extent, but she brushed it off.

"Sherlock, anyone who can put up with you for three years deserves a medal. He's not going to spontaneously decide he doesn't want you, just because he's getting married. You'll still be his best friend." She spoke lightly, though gently, knowing he wouldn't appreciate it if she made a big deal out it all.

He nodded slowly, but then murmured an almost inaudible, "But what if you're wrong?"

Amy snorted softly. "I'm never wrong."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Okay wow it's been a really long time since I last updated. I can't even begin to express how sorry I am for that, and this chapter in no way makes up for it. However, it is an update, nonetheless. **

**I'm not going to promise an update because I have no idea as to what the future holds. I've not been feeling very mused as of late, though the past few months I've been focusing on my Sherlock/Molly fics. Here's this though, and I'm immeasurably sorry for taking so long with it.**

**Thanks to Party-Like-A-Hawkstar, bowtiesarecool, Owlet, ChamberlinofMusic, RandiReckless, Sutekh123, and .matthew for reviewing previous chapters. Thanks to all followers as well.**

**Cheers!**

* * *

The following morning, Amy rose with a muffin wedged between her teeth, combing her fingers through her hair with one hand, the other busy fastening the button on her skirt. She yelped as she fell on the stairs, her muffin tumbling out of her mouth. She quickly scrambled up, grabbing the muffin and bolting up to 221B.

Sherlock was sprawled out on the sofa in his dressing gown and pyjamas, brooding silently, watching her enter his kitchen. Amy's breathing was heavy as she flicked on the coffee maker and procured a mug from the cupboard. Sherlock raised a questioning eyebrow when she glanced in his direction.

"Oh, shut up. I'm late for work, big deal. It's your fault, anyway. You and your stupid violin. Somebody should take that damn thing away from you." she threw her hair up in a pony tail, huffing slightly as she waited for the coffee to be done. "I'm all out of the stuff I like. Lucky we like the same blend, I suppose."

She suddenly bit her lip and glanced at Sherlock, fingers against her chin in obvious worry. "Angelo won't be angry, will he?"

Sherlock let out a humming noise and closed his eyes, fingers pressing up against his chin in a prayer position. "Probably not. He's rather lenient with his employees, or rather people in general, especially when they are a friend of a friend."

Amy quirked a brow, smirking slightly. "You just called me your friend."

Sherlock's eyes flashed open, stormy blues roaming over her, making her feel more self-conscious than she had ever felt around a man. She was always the one in control, but she wasn't so sure with Sherlock.

"_Acquaintance_, rather," he bit out, his lips pressing together into a thin line as he closed his eyes once more and resumed his obvious pouting.

Amy rolled her eyes and turned back to the coffee maker, watching the brew fill her mug. "I'm sure a case will show up eventually." _Perhaps something that will bring the Doctor back. _Amy swallowed at the thought. No matter what, everything always led back to him.

Determined still, Amy took a big sip of her coffee followed by a bite of her muffin as she slung her satchel higher up her shoulder. "I'll just allow you to veg on the sofa while I go to my real job." Sherlock scowled and Amy laughed as she left the flat.

At around three, Angelo's usual slow down time, the bell on the door rung. Amy was perched behind on the bar, chatting to one of her co-workers. Popping up, she grabbed a pad of paper and went over to the table, not looking up as she greeted the customer and began to list their specials, but was cut off my a deep baritone saying her name.

"Amelia," he said and she looked up quickly, pen poised to the paper.

"Oh," she said and wedged it back behind her ear, pocketing the paper. "It's you. Why are you here?" She almost wished he weren't so fit, especially in his trim fitting suits and huge Belstaff coat. She had a thing for men in long coats.

Sherlock tilted his chin up a little. "There's been a kidnapping of a small child. I need your assistance, since John is busy unpacking." There was a little twitch of his nose, but Amy didn't call him out on it.

"Tragic… but," she gave him a look. "I'm at work. A real job, that actually pays me real money. And I need said real money to support myself. Now if you aren't going to order anything." she glanced towards the door, before turning back around.

Sherlock did not like that one bit. Standing up, Sherlock grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards him, causing Amy to level him with a firm glare. "Amelia Pond. I know you crave the adventure provided by your mad friend. Your eyes are wild but you're reserving yourself to living a normal life, believing it's what you need. He may not be coming back but I am offering you a chance to feel that empowering adrenaline again. Or have you gone soft?"

That sounded like a clear challenge to Amy, who never backed down from such like things. Meeting his gaze, she defiantly pulled her apron up over her head, pulled out her pony tail holder, shaking free her hair, and slammed both the tie and her apron down on the bar. "Let's go," she said, and Sherlock smirked in response, before both dashed out of the restaurant.

Amy felt that rush again, that one always present when she was with the Doctor. The adrenaline made her dizzy as they both sprinted down the sidewalk, her fiery red hair whipping out around her. She missed this, and she even allowed herself to admit that she missed the Doctor. She even missed that stupid bow tie and fez he insisted upon wearing. Okay maybe not but she did miss the Doctor. Oh hell did she miss him.

But now Sherlock was showing her a glimpse of what could be. Wild fanciful chases, mysteries and crimes. It was like her adventures with the Doctor, only a bit less alien. And she knew she could definitely get used to that. She'd always been wild at heart, ever since the Doctor landed in her garden and showed her a glimpse of a life that wasn't originally meant for her. But now it was. And she would seize it with both hands.


End file.
